Antidepressants
by SydneyTheAwesomeNerd
Summary: Deadshot finally gets some help for his depression. It's a long and painful journey as he deals with the side effects. Luckily for him, he doesn't have to go through it alone. Warning: Some language, suicide attempt


"You need to see someone," she spoke. Her features were contorted into a frown as she gazed up at him with worried eyes. The woman's hands were on both sides of his face. "Go see a doctor and have them help you. I hate seeing you like this."

"It's nothing."

"Bullshit. Don't tell me it's nothing. I know you're trying to be strong, but dammit Floyd! You're killing yourself. I'm afraid that that's what you actually want. Please, please get some help."

"Alright, I'll make an appointment in the morning."

 **First Medication**

The bullet hit him. Floyd looked on in horror. His brother's blood covered his hands. He screamed as his body was being placed in the ground. The next to go was her. Everyone he loved was dead.

He shot up from bed in a sweat. The sound of his breath was ragged. The man's hair was in a disarray. He clutched the cotton sheets tightly in his fists. The sheer terror he felt was enough to overwhelm him. He hunched over, and his shoulders shook. Tear drops fell to the bed.

"Another nightmare?" Arms slowly wrapped around him. "It's okay, it was just a dream."

"But I killed him."

"That's in the past. It was just an accident. You can't hold yourself guilty for something like that. You need to forgive yourself."

"I killed you."

"I'm right here. We need to get you off of that medication, try something else."

 **Second Medication**

He hunched over the toilet as he yacked his guts up. The taste was enough to make him heave again. Tears formed at his eyes from the unnatural motion. Sweat ran down his forehead. A woman ran in the bathroom and quickly dampened a cloth before placing it over his neck. She ran her hand along his back to try and massage out his tense muscles.

 **Third Medication**

The man couldn't move. His head pulsed with every heartbeat. Blankets covered him, trying to cut out the light and all the small noises that managed to penetrate the room. He winced at the sound of a bottle of pills shook and a glass of water clinked when the ice cubes hit it.

"Go away," he groaned. "You're too loud."

"Just take this, it'll hopefully help with your migraine."

"I'm going to be sick."

"There's a bucket next to the—" the woman stopped as he flipped the covers over his head and lurched into the bucket. She sighed as she left the room to call the doctor.

 **Forth Medication**

"Shut up! Just shut up!" he screamed as he flung open the microwave door. "You f*cking annoying piece of shit!" He slammed the door shut after he grabbed his contents. Floyd forcibly forced placed his bowl on the table. "Stop being so hot!"

The door opened to the apartment. A woman stood there looking bewildered at the man in front of her. He glared over at her and immediately took a defensive position.

"I heard you yelling down the hall, is everything alright?"

"No! Nothing is alright! I'm so angry, I just," he was about to say something else before his phone rang. He answered it and turned his back to the concerned woman. "I have a job, I'll be back later."

She held her bag tightly as he went into their room. He came back with a suitcase, the suitcase she hated. It had his sniper gear. It was the gear that she knew he took unnecessary risks in. The man stormed past her and slammed the door to the apartment.

"Come back safe," she whispered to herself before dropping to the floor in a sobbing mess.

Six people and a government official were killed.

 **Fifth Medication**

"Oh God, Floyd!" the woman shrieked as she opened the cracked bathroom door.

On the floor was an unconscious man. Two empty bottles of pills were by his side. The woman shook the man, trying to wake up. She cried his name multiple times, but he didn't respond.

Sirens soon sounded outside the apartment building. The emergency personal showed up to a woman pressing the man's chest and blowing into his mouth. The personal took her away before administering CPR.

A pulse monitored his heart beat. Oxygen was forced into his nose. When she walked in with two cups of Joe a therapist was speaking to him. The therapist looked up and said he'd leave the two alone.

"How are you feeling?" she questioned as she placed a cup on the table next to him.

"Drowsy, they pumped some strong medications in me."

"They had to pump your stomach, too," the woman spoke quietly. She shook as she looked down at the cup of coffee in her hands. "I'm so sorry. I'm sorry I can't help you anymore. I wish I could take away all of the pain, Floyd. I do. Just know that I love you." Tears streamed down her face.

"Don't you dare blame yourself," he commanded. "It's not your fault I'm like this. Damn it, now you're making me feel guilty. Don't cry like that. Look, I'm thinking that I should just stop all of this medication nonsense. It's not getting me anywhere. I'm just the same without at it as I am now."

"Suicidal you mean?" There was silence for a couple of minutes.

"I'll give one more dose a chance, then I'll look into something else."

Sixth Medication

"Hey," he said as he bent down and wrapped his arms around her. He kissed her cheek before grabbing a cup of coffee. "How are you?"

"Good," she replied hesitantly. "You seem rather cheerful?"

"I feel cheerful." He grinned before taking a sip of his coffee. He put the mug on the counter. "Thank you, for pushing me and for staying by my side this whole time. I love you."

-A/N—

Okay, so some might get mad how I'm portraying Deadshot on different medications, saying it's negatively portraying people on antidepressants. However, this is all based on real symptoms I experienced in the order I took them. The whole point is to show how frustrating it is. I hope it didn't offend anyone.


End file.
